THE 18TH APRIL--A FIGHT AGAINST TERRIBLE ODDS--NUMBERED WITH THE
SLAIN!--THE MARCH TO BLOCK DRIFT.
The stars were still bright in the heavens, and the grey dawn of day had
not yet appeared in the east, when the camp at Burns Hill was once more
astir with the final preparations for the march to Chumie Hoek; and so
soon as the waggons were ready and the draught cattle inspanned, the
troops paraded without blast of bugle or beat of drum, and the order to
form column-of-route was given. The advance-guard moved off just as the
morning broke, and was presently followed by the long train of
bullock-waggons--one hundred and twenty in number--and the guns and
caissons of the Royal Artillery; but the day had "begun its broiling
course" before the rear-guard, of which Jamieson's Horse formed part,
was clear of the camping ground.
As daylight grew more distinct, thousands of Caffre warriors were
descried pouring down from the mountains; and it became palpable to all
concerned that the way would be disputed by a determined and--so far as
numbers went--an overwhelming force.
Said old Captain Jamieson, as he brought his glass to bear on the
distant hordes, "Mark my words, G--! the 18th April will become famous
in the annals of South African warfare. Those fellows yonder mean
business; they have no doubt been excited to the verge of madness by
their witch doctors, and will attack us with maniacal fury."
"We shall have hard work to get through them," the major replied,
somewhat gloomily, for he felt much his responsibility; "and I fear many
a good soldier amongst us will never see another sunrise. Still, were
it not for the `impedimenta,' I would not mind encountering double the
number; and if we could only get them in the open for half an hour our
cavalry should read them a lesson they'd never forget--a lesson that
should be handed down to posterity! But I must move on to the front.
_Au revoir_, Jamieson! I trust we shall meet again at Chumie Hoek
before many hours have passed."
The road by which the convoy was to march followed the bank of the
Keiskamma for some two or three miles; until the river, suddenly
changing its course by a sharp bend to the right, swept round a rocky
eminence upon which stood the ruins of a long-abandoned military post
known as Fort Cox. At the base of this eminence (which the road
traversed before it again met the Keiskamma at the drift or ford) the
way led for nearly a half mile up a precipitous ascent, encumbered with
huge boulders, and surrounded by bush.
It was at this point that the Caffre chiefs massed their eager warriors
for the attack on the baggage-train.
The leading division of waggons, which carried the "impedimenta"
belonging to Colonel Somerset's column, were so admirably defended by
G--n's advanced-guard and their own escort, that they passed up this
dangerous ground without disaster, and descending to the drift (which
was held by a squadron of the Cape Mounted Rifles, under Lieutenant
Bissett) [General Sir John Bissett, K.C.B., author of _Sport and War in
South Africa_] crossed over the Keiskamma. This part of the train
subsequently reached the camp at Chumie Hoek in safety; its rear being
covered by Bissett's riflemen, who, after the passage of the river was
effected, were relieved at the ford by Major G--n's advanced force. But
the journey between the ford and Chumie Hoek was not made without
opposition, for there was some very hard fighting all through the bushy
country, and several of the escort were killed and wounded; Mr Bissett
himself had a narrow escape of his life, his charger being shot under
him, and his rifle knocked to pieces in his hands.
The centre division of the convoy--consisting principally of the
baggage-waggons of the 7th Dragoon Guards--did not meet with similar
good fortune; for the enemy attacked the escort with such impetuosity
and in such overwhelming numbers, that the latter was compelled to fall
back on the troops in the rear, and so the whole of the waggons were
captured. To make matters worse, this disaster occurred in a narrow
part of the road, and the wily Caffres immediately freed the teams from
the yokes, overturned several of the waggons, and so completely blocked
the way for the rest of the train.
By this time Colonel Somerset had despatched every man he could spare
out of camp to Major G--n's assistance; namely Sutton's Kat River
Burghers, and two companies of the 91st Regiment, under Captain Scott;
but the enemy continued to come up to the attack in such astonishing
force that the major was reluctantly compelled to abandon the
baggage-waggons of the 7th Dragoon Guards (fifty-two in number) in order
that he might have more men to defend the guns and ammunition train,
which he was determined to save at all hazards.
Leaving the waggons to their fate, Major G--n made a detour to the left
along the bushy slope, and having fought his way across the Keiskamma he
entered a valley at the foot of the Seven Kloof Mountain.
Up this valley G--n led his column, fighting over every yard of the
broken ground, until--just as night was falling--he reached the open
country in the vicinity of Chumie Hoek. The Caffres here made one more
desperate attempt to take the guns, but the gunners opening upon them
with shot and shell, repulsed the attack, and it was not renewed; the
column then marched on, and eventually arrived in camp with the loss of
an artillery waggon, which had to be abandoned owing to the collapse of
its team of bullocks...
We must now return to the rear-guard, and see how it had fared with our
friends in "Jamieson's Horse" during that eventful day.
When the officer commanding the rear-guard heard that the escort of the
centre division of the convoy was being driven back, and that the
waggons were in imminent danger of falling into the enemy's hands, he
consulted with Captain Jamieson as to whether he should not take it upon
himself to send a troop to their assistance; but before he had time to
come to a decision a mounted orderly arrived from the front with the
alarming intelligence that the waggons had already been captured, and
that the road was entirely blocked; he also brought an order that
"Jamieson's Horse" should be sent forward at once, to retake the waggons
and hold the enemy in check until the road had been cleared.
Anxious to reach the scene of the disaster without a moment's delay, and
being well aware that if he advanced along the road he must necessarily
meet with more or less hindrance, Captain Jamieson wheeled the corps to
the left, and started off at a hand-gallop across country until he lost
sight of the convoy; when he changed direction to the right and led his
men over some broken ground, which ran almost parallel to, and was
within easy rifle-shot of the road. They had advanced about three parts
of a mile over this ground, and were within half that distance of the
captured waggons--which were now completely surrounded by hundreds of
the enemy--when Frank Jamieson, who was riding at the head of the
leading troop, espied--away to the left front--a small party of Caffres
driving off the bullock teams into the mountains. He at once pointed
them out to his father, who ordered him to follow in pursuit with
fifteen men, and do his best to recover the teams and bring them back as
quickly as possible.
"Without them," said the captain, "I do not see how we can take the
waggons on; for I heard Thompson say that he had no spare draught
cattle."
As soon as Frank had ridden off, Captain Jamieson and the remainder of
the corps galloped onwards, and--the nature of the ground and the "din
of battle" favouring them--they approached within a couple of hundred
yards of the baggage-train without attracting attention; for those of
the enemy who were not actually engaged with either the advance-guard or
escorts, were busily employed plundering the waggons. Jamieson's
volunteers were thus enabled to deliver a telling volley, and then
charge down on the Caffres before the latter were thoroughly alive to
the fact that they were being attacked from that quarter; and so
impetuous was this charge, that the little band rode right through the
dense masses of the enemy up to the waggons without losing a single man
or horse. The next minute the Caffres, recovering from their surprise,
closed in upon the gallant horsemen, and for a little while there was
some desperate hand-to-hand fighting, in which, however, Jamieson and
his men at first held their own. But the Caffres outnumbered them
twenty to one, and, moreover, were excited to such a pitch of fury that
they were utterly reckless of their lives; and as fast as one was cut
down or shot, half a dozen others would press forward to take his place;
many, too, actually crawled on all-fours amongst the plunging horses,
and thrust their assegais again and again into the poor brutes' bellies,
and so in a short time nearly one-third of the volunteers were
dismounted, and assegaied before they could disengage themselves from
their dead chargers. And now the corps got broken up into groups, and
the end soon came.
Amongst the first who had their horses killed, were Captain Jamieson,
young Flinders, and Sergeant-major Keown; they, however, at the time,
escaped personal injury, and so continued to fight on foot until they
found themselves separated from their comrades, and standing at bay with
their backs against a waggon.
Three worthier representatives of our glorious triune kingdom never
faced their sovereign's foes!
On the left of the "dauntless three" stood the fine old Scotchman, cool
and calm as if at sword-play; his grey head bare, his tall commanding
figure reared to the full height, his long cavalry sabre red with the
blood of his enemies. Next to him was our young hero, a trifle less
collected than his veteran chief, but not a whit less fearless; could
any of his former school-fellows have beheld Tom Flinders at that
moment, they would have rested content that the honour of Rugby was safe
in his hands! Tom had lost his sword when his horse was killed, and he
was now defending himself with an assegai snatched from an enemy's hand.
Then on the right--close beside his master's son--stood that brave and
honest son of "Ould Erin," Patrick Keown, armed with an old-pattern
dragoon sabre, which he had picked up cheap in some Cape Town store, and
had had sharpened until its edge was as keen as that of a scythe.
Patrick Keown was a splendid swordsman (he had been sergeant-instructor
of fencing to the C.M.E.), and not a few Caffres had fallen beneath his
stalwart arm during the fray; but, alas! that good right arm now hung
powerless--for an assegai had pierced it through and through, and poor
Patrick's coat-sleeve was literally saturated with the crimson stream
that gushed from the wound--and it was his _left_ hand that was clenched
within the basket hilt. Round these devoted men was gathered a mob of
yelling savages, who thirsted for their blood, yet hesitated to come
within reach of their formidable weapons.
But it was impossible that such an unequal contest could last for more
than a few minutes.
Tom Flinders was the first of the trio who fell. Struck on the head by
a jagged piece of rock, hurled by one of the infuriated Caffres, Tom
dropped as if shot; and rolling between the wheels of the waggon lay
motionless on his face--to all appearance dead.
Almost at the same moment Captain Jamieson received a ghastly wound in
the breast, and sinking lifeless to the bloodstained ground was
instantly despatched by his ruthless assailants. Hard fate his, poor
old man! to have fought through many a hotly-contested action with
"foemen worthy of his steel;" to have survived the glorious perils of
the Peninsula campaigns; and then at last to have fallen by the hand of
a South African savage!
When Sergeant-major Keown saw that his chief and his beloved master's
son were both down, he gave utterance to a bitter cry of mingled rage
and sorrow, and with uplifted sword rushed madly into the very midst of
the exultant foe. Once--twice--thrice did his sabre flash in the sun,
and each time that it descended a Caffre "bit the dust." Then a
crushing blow from a knobkerrie--delivered from behind--brought the
brave Irishman on his knees; he staggered up, and wiping away the blood
that, streaming down his face, obscured his vision, he shortened his
sword and thrust at the nearest Caffre, driving the keen point deep into
his side; but the next moment a dozen assegais were plunged into Patrick
Keown's body, and he fell to rise no more.
A few of the ill-fated corps succeeded in hewing themselves a path
through the dense masses of the enemy, and rode back to the rear-guard;
whilst one or two--of whom more anon--were taken prisoners; but the
majority of those who took part in the fatal charge were slain
fighting--like their heroic commander and his sergeant-major--to the
very last gasp. The volunteers who escaped to tell the woeful tale were
attached for the rest of the day to a troop of the Cape Mounted Rifles,
and with them fought their way across the Keiskamma, and thence on to
Chumie Hoek; where, late that same evening, they were joined by Frank
Jamieson's party.
Frank's grief on hearing that his father and Tom Flinders were amongst
the slain was very great, and he would certainly have gone forth alone
to search for their bodies, had not the brigadier given him a peremptory
order to remain in camp; declaring that--being one of Captain Jamieson's
oldest friends--he would not hear of the young man throwing away his
life to no purpose.
The "General Order" issued on the evening of the 18th, informed the
weary soldiers and Burgher troops that it was the brigadier's intention
to quit Chumie Hoek on the morrow, and march with his entire force and
"impedimenta" to the mission station at Block Drift. This was anything
but welcome news to the poor fellows, who sorely needed rest after the
fatigues they had undergone, and had looked forward to remaining quiet
at least a clear day, instead of only a few short hours; nor were they
permitted to enjoy these few hours undisturbed, for during the night
they had repeatedly to stand to their arms in order to repel the attacks
which the enemy made on the camp. Then when morning dawned there was
every indication of another day's desperate fighting; the mountains
above the camp being alive with the enemy, whilst masses of their
mounted warriors had assembled on the lower heights of the Chumie range.
As Colonel Somerset's advance-guard marched from the camping ground, the
Caffres moved down from the mountains in vast numbers, extending
themselves all along the line of route; and when the column approached
the bushy country towards Block Drift, they attacked it in front,
centre, and rear.
Somerset immediately gave orders for the Royal Artillery to come into
action, and the guns opening with shell and canister, quickly drove the
enemy back. When the head of the column neared the mission station,
Colonel Somerset rode forward with his advance-guard and two guns, and
taking possession of the ford of the Chumie River, placed the guns in
position, and opened a hot fire upon the Caffres; who were still
hovering round the flanks and rear of the baggage-train--attacking the
waggons whenever an opportunity occurred.
About two and a half miles from Block Drift the enemy were strongly
posted on a sugar-loaf, bush-clad hill, at the base of which the road
passed; here there was some severe fighting, and the rear of the column
was at one time very hard pressed. To do the Caffres justice, it must
be confessed that they exhibited undeniable courage, and returned again
and again to the attack; and that in the face of a destructive artillery
and musketry fire, such as might well have daunted even European troops.
The passage of the Chumie River was not effected without considerable
difficulty and delay, for the banks being precipitous and slippery, many
of the waggons stuck fast in the bed of the stream, and had to be hauled
up on "terra firma" by the soldiers--the bullocks not being equal to the
task.
All this time the fighting in rear of the column was going on with
unabated fury, until at last, the ammunition of the infantry of the
rear-guard failing, volunteers were called for from the cavalry corps to
relieve them. The troopers of the "Black Horse," and of the Cape Rifles
readily responded to the call, and, the required number having been
selected from amongst those who stepped to the front, they dismounted
and doubled back to the rear.
The Caffre chiefs now began to think they had had enough of it; their
losses had been very heavy, and they had only captured one waggon--
which, as it turned out, they had much better have left alone; so their
attacks became less furious, and at length they were finally repulsed.
By that time the last of the waggons had been brought across the Chumie
River, and Colonel Somerset continuing his march reached Block Drift in
safety and there established his camp, taking advantage of the
missionary buildings. Amongst those who were reported as "missing,"
after the day's work was done, was Frank Jamieson!
Thus ended what may be termed the "opening campaign" of the "War of the
Axe."